


let that lonely feeling wash away

by aesthetic_shitpost



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Connor Murphy Makes a Friend, Gen, Rich is Nice, although neither of them are technically in this lmao, au where jeremy and evan are stepbrothers, i can do whatever i want, intentional lowercase for the ~aesthetic~, okay Listen. we don't know what rich's canon personality is bc of the squip, request fic, stepbrothers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 17:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14698716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesthetic_shitpost/pseuds/aesthetic_shitpost
Summary: after the computer lab, after reading that fucking letter, connor goes to the bathroom that is everyone knows is only used for smoking. he just needs to get rid of all this energy. he’s so keyed up right now with rage, with what the fuck hansen why were you writing about my sister, and all he knows to do is get high.he gets to the bathroom and immediately punches the wall.-Anonymous said: if u wrote it i would Die,, also consider,, stepbros au where connor lives bc he meets rich after the incident and stuff ensues,, (no romo just gr8 pals)





	let that lonely feeling wash away

**Author's Note:**

> anon, i hope this is what you meant when you said "the incident". also this is my first time writing both of these characters in depth, so sorry if anyone's a little ooc.
> 
> title from "you will be found" from deh.
> 
> context: rich is a senior, connor is a junior. The events of bmc happened last year, and this picks up right after the computer lab scene.

after the computer lab, after reading that _fucking_ letter, connor goes to the bathroom that is everyone knows is only used for smoking. he just needs to get rid of all this _energy_ . he’s so keyed up right now with rage, with _what the fuck hansen why were you writing about my sister_ , and all he knows to do is get high.

he gets to the bathroom and immediately punches the wall.

then he slams all of the stall doors, then sinks down in the corner and pulls out his little baggie of weed with shaking hands.

he’s just started to calm down a bit when the bathroom door opens.

rich walks in.

connor’s only seen him in the hallways sometimes, but he knows about him. the whole school does. how could he not? the entirety of middleborough was talking about halloween last year, how rich set a fire and he burned down jake dillinger’s house, but somehow they’re still best friends.

so rich walks in and they’ve never spoken a word to each other.

connor doesn’t panic or anything. he just raises an eyebrow at him over his joint as if challenging him to say something.

rich heaves a breath and says, “got enough for two?”

well, connor wasn’t expecting _that._ but then again, why would rich come to the smokers’ bathroom if wasn’t looking to get high?

so he just shrugs and says, “sure.”

rich slides down next to him and connor hands over the joint.

“so,” he asks, “why are you getting high in the bathroom on the first day of school?”

connor tenses up. rich takes a puff.

“why are you?”

the senior chuckles. “touche,” he says.

there’s a moment of silence. rich hands the joint back to connor. he takes a puff in an attempt to calm his nerves. why is this kid here, in this bathroom, with his shoe touching connor’s and his steady hands a stark contrast to connor’s own?

(his hands are never still these days, they’ve been shaking since his first attempt)

“i’m here because all my classes are shit and all i’ve been hearing all day is ‘hey, that’s the guy who burned down his friend’s house last year,’” rich says abruptly. “i just wish that wasn’t the only thing people see me as.”

and what is connor supposed to say to that? false platitudes aren’t his style.

he gives him the joint.

“well, at least people aren’t calling you a freak in the hallways.” connor laughs bitterly, recalling the morning events. why couldn’t that asshole just mind his own business? why did that creep have to laugh?

rich huffs out a short bark. “maybe not anymore. maybe not to my face. it’s almost better when they’re telling you outright,” he says thoughtfully. “then i don’t have to wonder what they’re thinking.”

“well, at least some creep isn’t writing letters to himself about your sister,” connor mutters. he’s not even sure if he wants rich to hear. he’s not even sure why he said it.

“some creep did what?”

connor sighs. “i was in the computer lab and this guy was in there printing something. i picked it up from the printer and we were actually starting to have kind of a nice conversation and then i looked at the paper and he was writing about my sister.” he swallows. feels the outline of his pocket. “i still have it, actually,” he says.

rich stays silent for a moment, processing. he hands the joint back to connor. “seems like you need this more than me.”

connor shrugs. maybe they both need it in their own ways. he takes a puff.

“so,” rich says, contemplative. “have you read it?”

“what?”

“the letter,” he says. “that the guy printed. have you read the rest of it?”

connor puts his hand in his pocket, feels the paper, crumpled up. “no,” he admits.

“maybe you should,” rich says. “maybe he wasn’t being creepy writing about your sister. context is important, you know,” he says, with a smirk, as if it’s some inside joke.

well, connor’s not in on it.

“how could he be not creepy writing about my sister in a letter to himself?” connor says, sharper than he’d intended. “like, it was a whole letter. ‘dear evan hansen, all my hope is pinned on zoe, who i jerk off to every night. sincerely, me.’” connor takes a puff. “i mean, slight paraphrasing on my part, but that’s basically what it was.”

he looks over, expecting some witty remark or unexpectedly deep comment from his new smoking partner, but he just looks shocked. “evan hansen was the guy who wrote the letter?” he asks.

“...yeah?” connor can’t imagine what significance some junior has to rich goranski.

rich nods to himself. “yeah, it’s almost certainly not what you think.”

“what difference does it make who wrote it? why do you even care about evan hansen anyway?” connor spits out. he stands up, suddenly unable to stand being here with this person who’s turned against him, just like _everyone_ else, _they’re all gonna turn against you eventually it’s just a matter of time (might as well just end it all now)_

“connor, wait -” that’s the first time rich has said his name, he notes absently through the haze of anger that is clouding his mind.

“fuck you,” he mutters on the way out, leaving rich to smoke in the bathroom, alone.

connor storms home, taking his car and driving as recklessly as he ever has. he’s too angry and conflicted and confused to care about stop signs and speed limits.

when he gets home, he goes right up to his room. he wants to do something, it doesn’t matter what, as long as it stops everything from hurting and feeling and making him question things.

he lays down on his stomach, but something’s in the way. with trembling hands, he takes it out of his pocket.

the letter.

the letter that started this whole mess.

maybe rich is right. maybe he should read it.

he doesn’t want to, but almost against his will, his eyes are drawn to the words.

 _“dear evan hansen,”_ it says.

_“turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. this isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year, because why would it be?_

_i know, because there’s zoe, and all my hope is pinned on zoe, who i don’t even know, and doesn’t know me. maybe if i could just talk to her. maybe nothing would be different at all. i wish everything was different._

_i wish i was part of something. i wish that anything i said mattered to anyone. i mean face it, would anyone notice if i just disappeared tomorrow?_

_sincerely,_

_your most best, and dearest friend, me”_

connor reads evan hansen’s letter, and he’s speechless.

he’s speechless because this is exactly how he feels. never being worth anything, nothing he does matters, all his hope is pinned on zoe because she's a better person than he could ever be.

_(face it._

_would anyone notice if i just disappeared tomorrow?)_

It’s uncanny how much he and his hansen kid have in common, because today was the first time they ever talked.

connor doesn’t know what to do with this information.

he checks the time and absently notes that hours have gone by since he left school. the first day of junior year is finished now, and he hadn’t even gone to most of his classes.

(not that he expected to, anyway)

numb, in shock, he walks to a park near his house that he goes to whenever he needs to get away. his feet make their way to the same bench where his mother found him after his first attempt, the bench that he’s claimed as his own.

the bench that has rich goranski sitting in it.

“goranski,” he says, as neutrally as he can.

“connor,” he replies.

“what are you doing on my bench?” he asks.

“i wasn’t aware that these benches belonged to anyone but the park,” says rich.

“maybe not officially. but after you almost die somewhere, i figure you’ve got some claim to it.”

rich raises his eyebrows. “oh. well, in that case…” he scoots over and offers connor a seat. “It’s all yours.”

connor eyes him as he sits down. what’s his game? how did he somehow show up exactly where connor always goes?

“why are you here? are you following me or something?” connor asks sharply.

rich shrugs. “can’t a guy just go to the park and chill in nature? i had no idea you were going to be here. this is all a complete coincidence.”

his story rings true, so connor lets it go. they sit there for a moment in silence.

“so…” rich begins. “did you read it?”

connor sits and thinks. “yeah.” he almost whispers it.

“and?”

“how the fuck does this kid know exactly what’s going on in my head all the time?” he laughs bitterly. “like, fuck, just add some shit about drugs and it could be something i’ve written myself.”

rich doesn’t seem as surprised as he should be. “so you don’t think he’s a creep anymore?”

he shakes his head. “no. i get it now. i don’t like that he has a crush on her, but he wasn’t writing about her in an overly creepy way,”

“so that’s good, then, right?”

“i mean, yeah, that one part’s good. but the rest of it…” connor turns to look rich in the eye. “it resonated a little too much.”

rich looks confused. “what do you mean?”

connor leans back and looks up at the sky. the sun is just about to set. “i’ve tried to kill myself three times.” he ignores rich’s quiet gasp next to him. “he sounds exactly like i do.” he feels an urge to go on, to explain himself. “when i talked to him in the computer lab today, we were talking about not having friends. if ‘all his hope is pinned on zoe’ like he says, then it sounds like he really doesn't have anyone at all. and his arm… he told everyone he broke his arm falling from a tree. i wonder…” he swallows. “i wonder how he fell.”

rich looks frantic, his mind racing as he tries to assimilate this new information. “but he doesn’t have nobody, he has jeremy! and his parents. and he’s friends with jared -”

“kleinman?” connor cuts him off. “he’s an asshole.”

“okay, yeah, i can see why you would say that, but jeremy loves him! they’re kind of new to each other, but i bet they’ll act like they’ve known other their whole lives by this time next year.”

“who’s jeremy?”

“his stepbrother. i’m friends with him, he’s the reason i even know who evan is in the first place.”

well, that explains a few things. wait, jeremy?

“the same jeremy who cheated on brooke lohst last year and roofied the school play?” that guy does not seem like a good and caring older brother.

_(not that connor would know)_

_(not that he’ll_ ever _know, and she just hates you for it so you might as well just end it all now)_

rich winces. “that... isn’t really what happened.”

“then what did happen?”

he hesitates. “it’s... it’s complicated. but just know that what happened last year was just a lot of misunderstandings, okay? jeremy really is a good person.”

“...okay.” rich really does seem sincere, so connor decides to believe him. for now.

they sit for a moment, and then rich says, “how can we help evan? if he really is - _suicidal,_ like you said.”

connor barks out a harsh laugh. “you think i know? i’ve tried to kill myself three times and my dad still thinks that i should just ‘man up’ and that mental illnesses don’t really exist and you’re weak for needing medicine for them. i don’t even know what i actually have. i just know i want to die.”

“that sucks, man.” rich looks like he doesn’t really know what to say. he paused, debating with himself what to say. he swallowed. “last year, when i… when i set jake’s house on fire, i was trying to die.”

well. connor was not expecting _that_. rich senses connor’s shock and laughs. “yeah. i know.” he runs a hand through his hair. “i was just in a really bad place, had been since freshman year, and i was being forced to make all of these decisions and be this person that i just wasn’t, and i - the only way out i could see was dying. so,” he takes a big breath, “i set a trashcan on fire and hoped that i wouldn’t make it out alive.”

connor has maybe never related to anything more.

“and then of course, fucking perfect jake dillinger breaks his legs saving me from his house that _i_ set on fire.” rich shakes his head, looking down at the grass. “i don’t deserve him.”

usually at this point in the conversation, the other person would be offering awkward condolences. but connor’s only social skills are pissing off his family and talking to his weed dealer, so he says, “well hey, at least he still is your friend. and you got some pretty sick scars out of it.” well, he can try to be a little reassuring.

rich huffs out an awkward laugh. “yeah, everyone loves a guy with burn scars all over half his body.” he rolls his eyes. “it’s kind of ironic, really. i finally realize i’m bi, doubling my dating pool, right after i get scars that probably halve my dating pool. so really, i’m just back to square one.”

connor chuckles a little at that. he’s not really sure, but he’s probably gay. and no one even knows! zoe never talks to him and his mom only cares about trying to fit him into her image of a perfect family. the only other person he talks to is alana beck, and she only talks about herself and doesn’t seem to notice that he never responds. being alone isn’t new to him, but connor hasn’t felt it so acutely in a while. he feels an urge to tell rich. he just needs someone to know _(before he goes)_ and he knows that rich won’t hate him for it.

so he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and says, “i’m gay.” rich’s head whips around and he stares at him, surprised. connor stares back in the most intimidating way he can after being so emotionally vulnerable.

“that’s… that’s great, connor. thanks for telling me.”

“i just needed someone to know.” the words are pushed out of his mouth as though overflowing. “no one else - i haven’t told anyone else.” what the fuck gave him mouth permission to say this?

“oh. um, thanks for picking me for your first coming out experience, i guess.” rich scratches at his neck awkwardly. “why me, though? you hardly know me.”

“exactly,” connor answers. “no preconceptions, no pressure. my parents wouldn’t be accepting, my sister wouldn’t care, and the only other person i talk to talks at me, not to me. i just needed someone to know,” he says again.

_(because who knows how long it’ll be before he offs himself? he can’t leave it unspoken.)_

rich looks at him like he understands. connor thinks that maybe he does.

their conversation lapses into a comfortable silence, giving them both time to think. rich says quietly, “we’ve been talking a lot about evan and how he’s doing, but - you just mentioned that you only talk to one person outside of your family and you don’t even like them. and you said that you’re not getting treatment and you’ve tried to kill yourself three times, and - i’m worried about you.”

connor blinks. no one’s been truly, sincerely, worried for him since he was a kid, since everyone realized that he wasn’t worth their time _(wasn’t worth anything)_.

he’s not used to being cared about.

rich takes connor’s shocked silence as permission to go on. “you said that you don’t have any friends, and i know that you didn’t say that you’re lonely, but i can tell. i know what alone looks like and i don’t want you to feel like that anymore, because it sucks, i know it does. I guess -” he licks his lips. “i guess what i’m saying is i want to be your friend.”

_i want to be your friend._

connor can’t remember the last time someone said those words to him. he swallows, his throat suddenly getting suspiciously choked up.

connor shrugs as nonchalantly as he can and tries to make it seem like it’s not a big deal. “sure. i mean, i don’t know why you’d want to be friends with a good-for-nothing stoner with no future, but sure. go ahead.”

rich lays his hand on connor’s knee. connor is starting to realize how long it’s been since he’s really talked to another person, since he touched someone in a way that wasn’t fighting.

“i want to be friends with you because you need someone, and even though i’ve only had two conversations with you, i want it to be me,” rich says plainly.

“i’m not looking for pity,” connor says, eyes burning as he tries not to cry.

“i’m not giving it to you,” he replies. “i just want you to be happy.”

connor can’t remember the last time he was happy, either. god, how long has it been since he was a functioning person?

too choked up to speak, he simply nods, accepting rich’s words. the hand on his knee gently squeezes him before removing itself.

“so…” rich says. “i’ll see you tomorrow. my locker’s in g hall, i usually hang out there before class. see you later, nerd.” he stands up and hesitates before ruffling connor’s hair in the way that connor never dared to do to zoe. then he’s off, striding towards the exit of the park without a second glance.

connor just sits there, letting a tentative hand go to his messed-up hair. for the first time in maybe years, a smile creeps onto his face. he knows where he’ll be tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> hmu on tumblr: aroacethetic_shitpost


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